


Sufferance

by entanglednow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Obedience, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-28
Updated: 2010-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-14 12:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Crowley indulges himself and Dean suffers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sufferance

Dean's not quite sure how he got here.

Oh he knows how he _got_ here. He just has no idea why, and sometimes he _wishes_ he had some sort of excuse. Something he could accuse Crowley of that would absolve him of all responsibility for this.

He currently has his hands folded round the headboard, fingers tight on the wood, muttering obscenities and curses into the pillow. His legs are exactly where Crowley pushed them, spread apart, one shifted up.

He's been told not to move and Crowley's really fucking good at getting people to do what he tells them to. He doesn't have to tie them up (though Dean assumes he's good with that too) all he has to do is speak. Voice making everything sound like a suggestion and not a command, but Dean knows that's a lie. Crowley knows him well enough by now to know he likes to do as he's told, likes it better when he can bitch about it at the same time.

Dean's pretty sure that's how he ended up here. How he ended up breathing through the sensation of a plug being slowly twisted and pushed inside him. It's not exactly warm, but not exactly cold either, slippery with lube and smooth where it's sliding in. All pressure and latex edging all the way up inside him. Dean tries, and fails, to hang onto the noise in his throat, something unsteady. Crowley doesn't stop until Dean's breathing out shuddery little breaths, thighs shifted apart, hips tilted up and back.

He groans into the pillow.

One last stretch and he takes it all, thighs tensing around that last push. The noise he makes is absolutely not a fucking whimper. Crowley slides his thumb where Dean is stretched out, slippery and tight. Fuck it, ok, it might be whimper.

Then the pressure's gone and the bed shifts.

The next thing he knows, cold denim hits the back of his legs.

"Now put your pants back on."

Dean clenches his hands into fists.

"You've got to be fucking kidding," he says breathlessly.

"What did I tell you about impatience?" There's a fine thread of amusement under there somewhere and Dean knows if he turns around he'll find Crowley smiling like a lion.

Dean groans into the pillow.

"You're a bastard, you know that," he manages, voice half muffled.

"I've been told a time or two," Crowley says smoothly.

Dean makes an irritated noise and slowly pushes himself to his knees. The unexpected shift and dig of the plug inside him forces him still. Hands clenched in the sheets at the strange too-hard fullness of it. He's swearing quietly on every slow breath.

Put his jeans on - he's not even sure he can stand up.

But he's stubborn enough to shift to the edge of the bed, stretch one foot down and set it on the floor and - Jesus - that's a heavy shift of pressure that leaves him groaning, without a clue whether he likes it or not.

When he turns around, Crowley's stretched out in the crappy motel chair, looking relaxed as hell. All pieced back together again in his dark suit and his coat. Expression a sort of smugness Dean's becoming more than familiar with.

Dean's tempted to flip him off.

He picks his jeans up, steps into them with a grunt then slides them up his legs, slow and awkward. That's a whole host of sensations he's not prepared for when he slides them up over his ass and flicks the button through its hole.

There's no time at all between the creak of the chair and Crowley pressing him back into the wall with a thud that goes all the way through him, and the demon's not even pretending he's not strong enough to hold Dean there for as long as he likes.

There's a brief, smoky laugh and then Dean's breathing under the crush of Crowley's mouth. The harsh dig of his teeth.

And then just as quickly his mouth is free again.

"I'm seriously rethinking my need to disappear for the rest of the day," Crowley says quietly

"So, what, I'm just supposed to wait?" Dean says roughly.

Crowley laughs, eyes dropping to his mouth, then lifting again.

"Yes, you're supposed to wait. Though I'll make it more than worth it."

"You better." Dean puts as much 'I will not put up with your bullshit indefinitely' into his voice as he can.

"Debauchery is my speciality," Crowley assures him, around the filthiest fucking grin Dean's ever seen. "I guarantee it."

There's a moment of ruthless pressure where Crowley's holding him, and then he's gone.

Dean lets his head thump back against the wall.

"Fuck."

  



End file.
